


Turnaround

by trascendenza



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-25
Updated: 2007-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trascendenza/pseuds/trascendenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Futurefic. <em>"Molly's spending the night over at that hoodlum's place."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Turnaround

**Author's Note:**

> For lyrstzha's drabble request, and also semi-for green_wing, who [wanted top!Mohinder](http://community.livejournal.com/mytwoheroes/21204.html).

"Molly's spending the night over at that hoodlum's place." Matt grabbed Mohinder's hips from behind, putting his chin in the crook of Mohinder's shoulder.

"Is she, now?" Mohinder licked a bit of honey off the tips of his fingers, left over from the baklava he'd made for dessert. "I don't see why you insist on calling Rory the hoodlum. He's a rather nice boy."

Matt scowled. "How can you say that? Look at all the junk she puts on her face. Don't even get me started on her _hair_. She never did that before she started hanging out with him and his punk boyfriend."

Mohinder set his plate down, turning around into Matt's arms to face Matt, bracing his arms against the dining table. "If your outmoded patriarchal views weren't so very endearing, Matthew, I would find them completely insufferable." His lips twitched, thoughts flavored with light amusement.

"Endearing, huh?" Matt bumped his hips up against Mohinder's with a raised eyebrow, noting the erection that was growing there, "Is that what they're calling it, these days? In my outmoded patriarchal society, we called that horny."

Mohinder laughed, eyelids dropping. "I must admit that there is a certain appeal to your… bluntness of language."

Matt leaned forward, biting at the pulse point just below Mohinder's jaw, projecting a few images that involved the two of them, a bed, no clothes and _quite_ a bit of blunt language.

_Is that as a formal invitation?_ Mohinder thought back, arching his neck back to grant better access.

_A whole night with the house to ourselves and that can of whip cream still on the table?_ Matt ran his hand up the inside of Mohinder's thigh. _You bet your ass it is._

*

They left the can of whip cream behind, but managed to shed all their clothes in a breadcrumb-like manner from the dining room to their bedroom. By the time they'd reached the bed, Matt was clad only in his bulletproof vest; Mohinder went to work on it with relish. He could hear Mohinder mentally purring as he loosened the straps and ripped Velcro—he had a real thing for guys in uniform. (And Matt had no objections to wearing it far more often than regulations deemed necessary.)

"I'm going to get you one of these, someday," he said, running his hands up and down Mohinder's back.

Mohinder shook his head, planting kisses up Matt's chest. _I would look like a fool. Whereas you…_

Mohinder bit his bottom lip; Matt could sense him focusing like they'd been working on, marshaling his mind into order and laying it out before Matt like one would the pages of an open book. Then, _there_—the book opened, laying out a series of impressions, feelings and thoughts all conjoined to form a coherent picture.

And when Matt took the permission to look, he saw… himself. The way that he appeared through Mohinder's eyes.

It took him a moment to understand, despite the impressive clarity of the focus, because what Mohinder saw was definitely _not_ what Matt was used to greeting in the mirror each morning. Truth be told, he'd inured himself a long time ago to fact that this was as good as it got. But, here… he could have been someone else entirely for how long it took him to recognize his own features.

Shit, he looked good. No, scratch that—he looked _sexy._

"Jesus, Mohinder. I—can't believe that's how…" Matt trailed off, too stunned to be flippant.

"What?" Mohinder smiled, adjusting so that his erection was impossible for Matt to ignore. "You thought this was a mere biological aberration?"

Matt, still a little too overwhelmed at the residuals of his revelation to offer a verbal response, sat up instead. After a few minutes of adjusting he came to a half-kneeling, half-sitting position on Mohinder's thighs, facing away from him.

Mohinder, sitting back against the headboard, pressed forward, his chest to Matt's back, hands coming to rest on Matt's hips.

"Are you all right?"

Matt choked out a laugh. _I'm more than all right, Mohinder. But I really think I'm going to need you to fuck me._ He rolled his hips backward. _Right now._ He provided some visuals aides so there was no chance Mohinder could miss his meaning.

Mohinder's thoughts became a quick and confusing jumble of Tamil; Matt had picked up enough over the years to recognize a few choice swear words in there. After hearing the nightstand open and the click of a bottle opening, two of Mohinder's slicked fingers slid slowly inside him.

_Oh, yes, yes,_ Matt thought loudly, arching back against the pressure. When Mohinder wondered whether to add another, Matt breathlessly panted, "_Please_."

Mohinder did, his other hand coming around to encircle Matt's cock as his fingers curled upwards, sliding deeper. Matt exhaled, fingertips digging into his kneecaps. Mohinder's hand remained loose around him, index finger stroking up and down his throbbing vein. The only cool point on Matt's whole body was where Mohinder's thumb ring traced circles around the head of his cock.

"You're evil, you know that?" Matt said, not even sure which way to strain his muscles, also picking up stray sensations from Mohinder—the muscles clenching around his fingers, the stickiness of pre-come on his thumb pad—and that just wasn't helping _at all._

_I'm very grateful that you provide me with so many opportunities to enhance my skill._ Mohinder's thoughts bubbled with laughter like carbonation.

"Next time I'm using the cuffs on you," Matt promised. His brow furrowed when the pressure disappeared and Mohinder's fingers latticed on four points against Matt's hipbone.

_Ohjesusmohinderfuckmefuckmefuckme,_ he projected when he felt Mohinder pressing in, jaw clenched too tight to speak. He fought to relax, letting the calm that was Mohinder's mental signature hold him steady.

Mohinder fucked him slowly, patiently, with a remarkable amount of restraint—Matt could very nearly _hear_ his entire body demanding more.

"Matt…?" Mohinder asked in a tight voice, stopping when he was lined up flush.

Matt closed his eyes—he'd been practicing this in private for months now. He was pretty sure he finally had the hang of it.

Tapping into the sort of secondhand ability that comes from extensive repetition of a task, he began gently projecting the sensations he was feeling to Mohinder. He honed in on where their skin met and how fucking _good_ it felt to have Mohinder inside him, simultaneously concentrating on rocking his hips back.

Matt felt the reaction in three ways: Mohinder shuddering and thrusting _hard_; his thoughts devolving into a confused but aroused chaos; and his groan, which sent Matt towards the brink faster than he'd thought possible.

It quickly became an escalating cycle, with their shared sensations looping around and around, intensifying with each mirroring. Mohinder fucking Matt being fucked and everything in between; they fell into a syncopation where responses were instantaneous—_a little bit over_, _no, that felt perfect, don't stop_. Their minds experienced the build-up as surely as their bodies, silent and audible cries of _yes_ and _more_ and _harder_ all tumbling over one another.

_Just like that, right there_—the friction of their skin increased in tempo, wet-slick sounds—_fuck me, God, yes_—muscles tightening, chest to back, joints beginning to ache with the mounting tension—_you feel so bloody good_—and they opened to each other, layer after layer, waves of pleasure and wanting and release all melding as one.

*

"I would say that you could have warned me," Mohinder mumbles into Matt's ear, "but there is really no warning for that sort of thing, is there?"

"I wasn't even sure it would work, to tell you the truth." Matt wrapped his arm tighter around Mohinder, snuggling in closer. "I'm just glad I didn't completely kill the mood or something."

Mohinder laughed. "Quite to the contrary. I believe I have been spoiled. I've never had a lover who gave me the experience _two_ simultaneous orgasms in one session."

"You better stick with me, then, 'cause last I checked I'm the only psychic within five hundred miles of this city."

Mohinder kissed his temple. "I may have a few other reasons for sticking with you, Matt." _Like what I showed you earlier._

Matt buried his face in Mohinder's neck, because sometimes it was all too much, to know that not only did he have this man's respect, partnership and friendship, but he had _this_, too.

_You, too,_ he sent back, buoyed on a wave of all the things he didn't need a say.


End file.
